


turning page

by kaientai



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, F/M, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Altissia (Final Fantasy XV), Smut, healer reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25461058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaientai/pseuds/kaientai
Summary: In which both the advisor and the healer learn that there's more to their lives than the oaths they swore to the Crown.
Relationships: Ignis Scientia/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deltachye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/gifts).



> This was commissioned by my lovely verochka <3 Thamk u for hauling me into ffxv by the neck. Sorta.

[ **turning page - sleeping at last** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Cry85KUzzU)

* * *

“You know how Noct hates it when people get hurt on his account, right?”

Ignis laughed softly from where he’s lying on his bed, one arm draped across his eyes as you tended to his injury. “Of course. But I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give him a little treat from the citadel gardens. The gods know he’s been cooped up inside for too long.”

The hands you were using to apply some self-crafted ointment paused their ministrations, bracing them on your hips in an accusatory pose. Was he being serious? Ignis Scientia, one of the most adept proteges of the Crownsguard, defending that little miscalculation because he wanted to give Noctis a _star apple_? 

“You can convince everyone that you’re wiser beyond your years, but you’re still a dumb teenager at the end of the day,” you sighed, making the motions to seal the clay jar in your possession. “Seriously, Iggy. What made you even _think_ you had to climb the tallest tree in the citadel? Couldn’t you have gotten some of the servants to do it? Or maybe you could’ve hurtled a knife so it could fall instead!”

For the record, you didn’t really mean to come off as exasperated as you were. If anything, the scolding should fall under Ignis’ expertise, but the fact that he went against the image he’d crafted in not only yours, but _everyone’s_ heads made you all the more frustrated. Then again, it wasn’t as if he’d been cleaved in half by a Shieldshear’s claws. Aside from a few scrapes here and there, the worst of it was a sprained ankle—nothing that wouldn’t heal even _without_ your help. You were perfectly aware of all this, yet when the news that Ignis had been carried to the citadel’s infirmary reached your ears…

The boy in question opted not to answer your myriad of questions, much to your chagrin. Instead, he pulled himself up by his elbows—wincing a little from the effort, but managing a straight-faced smile nonetheless. Without the glare of his glasses obscuring his eyes, those emerald irises seemed to glimmer in the daylight. 

“Why should I worry when I know you’ll be there to patch up not just me but everyone that requires your assistance?”

...was that supposed to _flatter_ you? “Iggy, just because someone cares enough about you to heal your wounds, doesn’t mean you should expend them like a tool.”

Ignis’ grin fell at your rebuttal. “I didn’t mean it that way—”

“Well, it sounded like such to me.”

A frown crossed your features, as you plopped yourself on a nearby stool. The sharp scent of disinfectant mingled with the earthy aroma of your herb-based ointment, and despite the fact that his crass wording had draped a damp towel across your already sour mood, you found the tension in your shoulders ebbing away. 

“Did you make it yourself?”

Your gaze flitted back to the boy seated on the bed, a small yet encouraging smile stretched across his face. “What?”

Ignis made a vague gesture towards the jar sitting on your lap. “The gel-like substance you used. Potions for external wounds always left a sizzling sensation on one’s skin despite its purpose to heal. I wasn’t very fond of them so I avoided making careless injuries at all, but then…” His voice gradually trailed off as he leaned closer to examine your paraphernalia even closer. 

As a daughter to the family that oversaw medicinal care in all of Lucis for generations, it was a standard expectation for you to come up with other means of treating all kinds of afflictions with whatever resources were available. When you recently discovered that a certain shrub growing in the outskirts of Insomnia had similar properties to that of a regular healing potion, you were more than compelled to develop a medium to make use of it.

But still, your eyes were slanted with suspicion as you unconsciously leaned away from his intent gaze. What was he on about this time? However, when the prince’s right-hand man broke out into a soft laugh, you could have sworn your heart stuttered.

“My hunch is correct,” he announced with pride.

Still puzzled with his increasingly odd behavior, you asked, “And what would that _hunch_ be?” 

Ignis lifted his injured foot off the mattress, the glossy finish of the ointment shining against the skin of his ankle. When he set it down once more, your gaze was met with a pair of earnest green eyes.

“You’re gearing up to be the best healer in Lucis, after all.”

* * *

Titles and ranks would always lose their flourish on the battlefield. Out here, everyone stood on even ground, and for the so-called best healer in Lucis, it was all downhill from here on out.

“Ignis…” Your voice was hoarse with fatigue and desperation as your hands hovered over his eyes. The skin around them had charred into a sickly gray hue—nearly resembling an abandoned road with withered cracks on the asphalt. But you couldn’t afford yourself the leisure of wondering what in the nine hells he did this time. Not when your heart sank into despair the moment you found him alongside Noctis at the ruins of the Altar.

Ravus was walking off in the distance. Gladio was hunched over your king and your fellow Crownsguard. Prompto was uncharacteristically quiet. And the stench of blood and seawater clogged your senses. You were aware of what was taking place all around you; aware that you should probably— _definitely_ —check on Noctis first but your knees stayed rooted in place, eyeing the king’s advisor with a vacant look in your eyes.

What should you do? You’d served in the Crown city’s hospital long enough to be quick on your wits and know how to treat a dying patient with the efficiency of a seasoned veteran. The man in front of you was, by no means, knocking on death’s doorstep, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t even _think_. The only thing circulating in your mind was the bone-crushing regret that settled over your shoulders upon seeing them like this. 

You shouldn’t have gotten separated. You should have been _there_ for ~~him~~ them. 

“—should get out of here before the whole place waterlogs.” 

When you looked back up, Gladio was already carrying an unconscious Noctis in his arms. He stared you down with a severe look in his eyes, barking for you to get up and help Prompto carry Ignis out of the wreckage. The rigor in his tone was enough to snap you back to your senses, and despite harboring some minor injuries of your own, you managed to help lug the forlorn advisor to his feet. 

“Please forgive me…” 

Ignis had been repeating the same words over and over since the three of you had gotten to the scene. You were yet to know what had transpired shortly before your arrival, but the moment you saw that his eyes no longer held their viridian allure, you just… _knew_.

“Please forgive me,” Ignis whispered again, and each time he repeated the words, it only added more tons to your already heavy heart. 

Prompto, so much sharper than he let others believe him to be, caught on with the shift in the air. When he cast a wary glance your way, you couldn’t even meet his gaze—tears blurring your vision into splotches of white and gray all around. 

“I hope you forgive me, too,” you croaked.

This time, Ignis did not answer.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment he opened his eyes, Ignis could no longer parse the difference between slumber and consciousness. An endless stretch of darkness loomed before him, threatening the king’s advisor to stay frozen on the spot. Where was he? Was this another one of the Chancellor’s deceptive illusions? Ignis then mulled over what little his memory could afford him—the sight of Ardyn holding a sword above Noctis, him reaching for the ring of the Lucii, the agony that scorched itself into his very soul as the kings of Lucis collected the blood price for their aid.

His vision.

Though he could not make sense of where he was, Ignis felt himself shoot up into a sitting position, where the soft kiss of cotton sheets beneath him implied he’d been laying on a bed. The scent of sea salt hanging in the air was carried by the same, gentle breeze that greeted their retinue during their arrival to Altissia. And in the span of two minutes, he immediately went through the whole process of pondering what in Eos happened while he was out cold. 

_Noct_ , was his first coherent thought thereafter. _Where’s Noct?_

As Ignis unconsciously felt around for spectacles he no longer needed, he brushed his frantic hands across something—no, _someone_. He paused, carefully skimming his fingers across the arm seemingly draped across the side of the bed. When he strained his ears, he could also identify a set of steady breaths that wasn’t his own. 

If he could picture the scene in mind, it would appear that whoever this was, they were dozing by his bedside; head resting in the curve of their elbow. Who could this be? Noctis was certainly out of the picture, and this arm was too skinny to be Gladio’s. That only left Prompto and (Name) as possible suspects. 

However, before Ignis could burden himself with the dilemma of knowing _without_ rousing the person beside him, his mind tapped in on a memory that seemed like it had happened forever ago.

* * *

“Rings?” 

You beamed at Ignis from where you sat across from him, baring all ten fingers—six of which were accessorized with unalloyed silver. “King Regis isn’t about to send a fourth Crownsguard who can’t even protect herself, you know?”

Ignis’ lips twitched into a fond smile as he examined each ring, oblivious to the way your face burned with borderline embarrassment from the way he held your hands in his. “Fair. We can’t afford to look after _two_ people.” 

“Don’t be so quick to list me off as someone who needs protecting,” you said, rolling your eyes as you jerked your hands back. “I’ve had my fair share of combat training, too.”

He simpered, unconvinced. “What _kind_ of combat training, pray tell?”

The way your cheeks flushed gave you away. “N-Not by watching King Regis teach Noct about procuring elemental deposits from afar—that’s for sure.” 

“So,” he started, stabbing his Horntooth pie with a fork, “in short, you have no experience at all?”

“It’s not like I had the time to gain any,” you reasoned, huffing at him as you folded your arms. “The hospital’s been really busy lately, okay? And didn’t I tell you about the thesis I’m doing about Sylleblossom roots? Man, I still have some untreated samples back in the lab, too…”

His shoulders shook as Ignis chuckled at your academic conundrum. “If you’re so busy, then why did you agree to come along as part of the entourage? I’m certain King Regis would have provided a replacement, should you decline his offer.”

“And miss out on a shot to try my hand at Elemancy? Fat chance,” you snorted. “Besides, do I _look_ like a busy woman, Ignis? You’re even honored to enjoy my company during my lunch break!” 

He sighed, seeing straight through your white lie. Instead of pressing the matter, however, Ignis opted to just chew his food thoughtfully before offering you a gentle smile. 

“I suppose you’re right.” 

* * *

Three on the right. Three on the left. Two for each element. Six in all. 

King Regis bestowed you, the group’s official healer, with a set of rings that allowed you to contain elemental spells within the bands instead of vials. In retrospect, it was a suitable weapon. He couldn’t imagine someone like you wielding a sword or even a gun. Of course, his sentiments may be biased by his own merit as an Elemancy user as well, but what you didn’t know wouldn’t kill you. 

Ignis slowly crept his hand towards the person again, tracing the skin of their arm until he felt tufts of hair tickling his skin. The strands were too long to be Prompto’s, and when his fingers finally grazed what he was looking for, he felt himself relax even through the prevalent darkness that blanketed his eyes.

He had been on the receiving end of the kings’ blessing, so no one knew the brunt of the damage it did to his body better than he did. It was perfectly normal for you, a healer, to be sitting by his side as you awaited for him to wake. But the fact that Noctis, your _King_ , had lost consciousness as he forged that covenant with the tidemother was still fresh in Ignis’ mind. If there was anyone you should be looking out for, it should definitely be him. 

Yet…he couldn’t bring himself to rouse you. 

Whether it was foolishness or selfishness—or maybe even both—on his part, the mere idea that you all (hopefully) got out of that mess alive made him feel complacent. Ignis convinced himself that perhaps, he could afford to stray from his fixed role as the man of reason so he could lie on this bed with you sleeping soundly just a few feet away. That he could bask in the scent of cranberries that suddenly fused with the ocean breeze. Hm. That was odd. You were so far away, yet he could pick out the sweet aroma you’d always carried around… 

Ignis barely noticed when he slipped into the clutches of slumber once more—yet accepted in his heart that his fate was now bound to the darkness that stretched on for eternity.

(He just hoped the rest of Lucis wouldn’t suffer the same way, too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big heads up: my planned chapters are usually a ruse so let's see if my whore mouth can really contain this to five chapters LMAO.
> 
> Anyway, you can discuss commissions and the like with me on [tumblr](http://hirugamis.tumblr.com)!~


	3. Chapter 3

The tensions in your little band of heroes had been high since you all boarded the train to Gralea, and there was only so much you could say to heal the growing rift between your comrades. 

Things had only turned for the worse once you all opted to spend the night at a haven somewhere in the outskirts of Cartanica. It was your first time camping after everything that took place in Altissia, and saying that things have changed was the understatement of the year. 

No longer did Prompto snap candid photos of you and the guys, giggling behind his camera as Noctis tried to swipe it from his hands. Gladio wasn’t chiding the duo from the sides as he chucked some wood into the bonfire, and Ignis… 

Ignis was... _managing_ , so to speak. 

You hovered a few feet away as rifled through his bag of ingredients. Of course, you knew that he was yet to get used to his current condition. Although you’d witnessed a handful of visually impaired patients quickly adapt to their lifestyle, the emotional toll it inflicted on not just Ignis, but the rest of the group made taking it in stride rather difficult for everyone on the team. 

Still, you hesitated.

You, of all people, knew how much everyone relied on Ignis, and the silence he’d kept all this time only meant he didn’t wish for the rest of you to treat him any differently. Each person in your little entourage was treading around the advisor on thin ice, and though you desperately wanted to go to his side and assist him like usual, you weren’t sure if that kindness would work in everyone’s favor. 

But then again, wasn’t it about time that Ignis relied on _everyone else_ for a change?

“Gladio managed to carve out some anak meat earlier,” you informed him, turning on the little solar lamp Prompto had laid on the table. “You think we can make some skewers?” 

Ignis paused his ministrations, turning to you with a slight twitch of his lip. “I’m afraid we’re out of Leiden pepper, though.”

You peered over his shoulder, immediately knowing that he had enough spices to make up for that lacking ingredient. Fingers going to the small recipe book he’d always carried around, you plucked it off the table as you skimmed through the dog-eared pages. 

“We can season the meat in other ways,” you suggested, reaching for the bottle of sweet pepper instead. “Here, let me—”

Ignis nearly knocked his collection over when he’d jerked away as you brushed his arm. The glass containers rattled across the wooden surface, and your hand fell to your side. You stared at him, brows pinched with apprehension. Had you…done something to set him off somehow?

“I…” Ignis faltered, dragging his palm across his face. “I can do this much, (Name). 

You set his recipe book back on the table, a frown settling on your face. “I wasn’t insinuating that you _couldn’t_ , Iggy. I just wanted to help you out like we used to before...before—”

“I don’t _need_ your help,” he spoke sternly, not bothering to look your way as he felt around for the container that Gladio had used to store today’s hunt. You walked around him, wordlessly pushing the black box closer to his grasp, which only served to make him scowl at you despite your intention.

“Are you mocking me?”

“What are you even talking about?” you asked, exasperated with his hastiness. 

Ignis huffed out a vexed sigh as he faced you—and you were all too glad that he couldn’t bear witness to it when you outwardly winced at the sight of him. You were yet to come to terms with seeing the fresh scar that covered his left eye, and the blank yet iridescent iris that drowned you in his right. You knew that pity was the last thing he’d liked to receive but, _fuck_. How could you call yourself a healer when you couldn’t even begin to soothe the storm in his heart? 

“I am the king’s advisor,” Ignis began, voice grazing the beginnings of a threat. “There are tasks expected of me that I should be able to perform regardless of my current predicament. If I fall short of anything, even with the most trivial matters, then I’ve failed as a retainer. Now, if you have any respect for me at all as a fellow Crownsguard you _will_ leave me to my own devices.” 

“No one is expecting _anything_ from you, Ignis!”

You didn’t mean to shout— _really_ , you didn’t. Raising one’s voice during an argument didn’t make your points any more convincing if the other party was too stubborn to listen. In your peripheral, you could spot Gladio looking at the two of you warily, but thankfully opted out of the exchange. Neither Noctis nor Prompto offered up any words to intervene, as well. 

In the silence of the night, the only thing ringing in your head was the crackle of the bonfire and your blood roaring in your ears. It didn’t make _sense_. Sure, everyone in this royal caravan had been under servitude to the Crown for years, but your relationship with Noctis went beyond that of a master and his servants. 

“Have you forgotten what Cid told Noct back in Caem?” you murmured when Ignis was too stunned to refute. “We’re not his bodyguards, we’re his _brothers_. That bond isn’t a one-way street—you _know_ that. So please… Please just let us help you. We’re not doing this because we feel sorry for you. We’re doing this because we fucking care about you.”

Ignis’ face scrunched up with a look you couldn’t quite decipher and when he turned back to the table to proceed with marinating the anak meat, you knew the discussion had come to a close. Your shoulders drooped, heart sinking into your stomach as you dragged yourself back to the warmth of the bonfire. 

After dinner, the boys all opted to crash early for the evening, given that team morale was way too low for anyone to share odd tales by the fire. Your box of cards hung heavy in your satchel, too—almost like it was begging to be used over a game of Blackjack. Alas, your play fellows had retired, and you were the only one left tending to the dying cinders in front of you.

The temperature had been steadily dropping each night since Lunafreya’s passing, and you were afraid that you were beginning to see some truth in the rumors that Gladio had picked up on. A shuddering sigh inched past your lips. Only a few months ago, you never would have pictured yourself fighting alongside Noctis for the greater good, but hey—it’s not like you were a stranger to a spontaneous change of plans altogether. 

“Aren’t you feeling cold out there?”

You startled a little at the sound of the tent flaps being pushed to the side. From the way he spoke, you figured that Ignis was having trouble falling asleep because…he wouldn’t be out here otherwise, right?

Mustering some willpower of your own, you pointed your index finger towards the charred firewood, a spark of fire spitting from your hands before scattering across the twigs and leaves. 

“Not anymore,” you said, shrugging as if to make a point. 

Ignis humored you with silence as he wobbled around on his cane, taking him a moment to find a seat next to you. Your posture tensed, still wary of his presence given that little altercation from earlier. Were you supposed to initiate the conversation? What do you even say to him—

“I’d like to apologize for my behavior,” he admitted, setting his cane down as he rested his palms on his knees. “It’s not my proudest moment, but I just wanted you to know that I don’t wish to propagate even more disarray than there already is.” 

You hummed in contemplation, leaning back in your chair as you trained your eyes on the starless sky. “You know I’d already forgiven you even before you asked, right?”

“...not really, no.” 

“You really are a dense idiot sometimes.”

Then, he laughed for the first time since Altissia. It was but a few stuttered breaths from his nostrils, but you’d known Ignis for so long that you could pick apart his expressions even with your eyes closed. (Ha!) 

The two of you sat by the fire you tended to with the stick Gladio had used prior to his early retirement, prodding the firewood around to fuel the flames. It’s been a while since you’d been alone with Ignis, and despite the fact that you were officially on good terms again, you didn’t know what to make of your time. 

Thankfully, he was more adept at picking up social cues than you were.

“I suppose I regret taking all those times we all sat around together for granted,” Ignis said, voice almost too soft to hear. “I wonder if Noct would still consider point warping around havens until he hit stasis after…everything.”

“I’m pretty sure if anyone’s taking it the hardest, it would be him,” you sighed, scratching the back of your neck. It was bad enough that he woke up to the news that Lunafreya died for his sake; what more when he found out Ignis got hurt because he protected him?

The unspoken tension that hovered over the rest of you was palpable enough to suffocate. Just this morning, when you scouted for tonight’s dinner with Noctis and Gladio, the irritation that one harbored for the other was enough to spark a wildfire of arguments mid-hunt. You almost got stampeded by an anak herd if not for Noctis snapping out of it and warping to your side. 

“Gladio is right to be worried that he won’t live up to his calling, but Noct isn’t hailed as the True King for nothing,” he said almost fondly, mouth curving into a lopsided grin. “I haven’t lost faith in him despite his current state. Aren’t heroes supposed to hit rock bottom first before rising to the top?”

True King…? What did he mean by that? 

Regardless of your curiosity, you opted not to press the matter. “That’s cheesy as hell, Iggy. Even kids don't believe in clichés like that anymore.”

Ignis heaved yet another easygoing laugh that made your heart flutter. You thought you were glad to have the bonfire all to yourself tonight, but sharing this little conversation with him was the salve you didn’t think you needed to ease your nerves. 

He was quick to deviate to another topic—that being tomorrow’s trip to Faudina Caestino, where Cor had tipped a relic must be hidden. His hands were now on the armrests of his seat, and you were so close that you could almost reach out to touch them—

“What do you think, (Name)?” 

You blinked in nonplus, what little part of you that listened telling you that he was asking if he should address the whole issue with the boys tomorrow. Being the number one peace advocate in the group (for the most part), you agreed that the sooner you all got your bearings straight, the better chance you had to stand against the darkness. 

“Well, that’s settled then,” Ignis announced, feeling a little for his cane before standing up. “I think I can make some Croque Madame come morning. Care to help me out with—”

The advisor jumped from the contact when your hand wound itself around his wrist, causing your brows to knit together in momentary confusion. You briefly wondered if the blindness caused his other senses to sharpen significantly, but pushed the thought elsewhere when you asked:

“Can you stay a little bit longer?” 

You saw the way his shoulders relaxed from your slight demand, and you were afraid that he’d reject you right there. Ignis was a man that didn’t dawdle around, wasting time on unnecessary things when he could be resting up in the tent. But a part of you hoped that maybe—despite the insurmountable distance that the two of you had put between the other—he could let himself be a little selfish, even in the most minuscule degree. 

When his lips twitched into a gentle smile, your heart practically soared.

“Just five more minutes,” he relented, slumping back into his seat as he warmed his hands by the fire. “Five minutes and we’re going to sleep.”

You chuckled, not missing the way his thumb grazed the rings on your fingers with the most delicate of touches. 

“I’ll take what I can get.”


	4. Chapter 4

Before everything in the land of Eos underwent an unprecedented domino effect of tragedies, King Regis had summoned four of his Crownsguard to the Citadel for an impromptu briefing. 

Ignis and Gladio stood before the throne with polished confidence—years of having been summoned several times over evident in their composure. You and Prompto were none too worse for wear, but you were certain even a regular guard could spot a couple of newbies with a single look. 

You didn’t know why you were here. Okay, that wasn’t really true, because the king had informed you himself of your new status as the official healer for the Crown a few weeks prior. That had been a major career shift that you had to mull over for a few days because—hey, you were brought up to be a medic not a gods damned _bodyguard_. 

But then again, your family had ties with the Crown that ran deeper than you could ever understand. It came as no surprise to you that your parents had relieved you of your duties from the hospital in exchange for granting you enough time getting used to being a proper Crownsguard.

The Astrals knew how badly you wished for more time to let it sink in. 

Prompto, at least, had an aptitude for long distance combat. He’d always been quick with his hands, and it didn’t take long for him to be hailed as the royal retinue’s gunman. You, on the other hand, weren’t proficient in fighting from both short _and_ long distances. King Regis assured that your role in the journey to Altissia didn’t require you to be a skilled fighter—for your duty lied in keeping everyone healthy and alive. 

Maybe it was your own superfluous pride that had spurred you on, but never would you have imagined yourself talking back to the king until that fateful day.

“Your Majesty, forgive me if this may sound a bit crass,” you began when you’d visited the king with your father, “but I do not wish to lie around waiting to be protected by the men around me when the prince’s safety is of higher priority.”

Your father shot you a stern look at having been interrupted in their prior conversation, but could he blame you? Noctis was expected to depart from Lucis in two weeks’ time, and you were _still_ ruminating over how you’re going to make yourself useful outside of medical care. You may not have grown up as a Crownsguard, but you knew the responsibilities that now rested on your shoulders upon being handed the title.

Frankly, you’d rather step down if you couldn’t live up to what was expected of you.

King Regis took your words into consideration, one hand lightly stroking his greying beard. You’d been around the man for years, though you still couldn’t quite get over how much Noctis took after him. But if the king’s severely wrinkled face and shadowed eyes were anything to go by, you could tell that his duties were affecting his body far more than he’d willingly admit to.

A speck of guilt prickled your chest as an apology aching to be said rested beneath your tongue. His condition was the main reason that brought you and your father for an audience in the first place, yet you just had to run your damn mouth… 

“I knew I made no mistake putting my faith in you,” King Regis admitted with a soft laugh, a tremor in his step as he got up to his feet. You blinked owlishly before he beckoned you to follow him. “Come. I’ve something to give to you.”

And that was how you found yourself waiting for the first person you’d thought of upon setting foot outside the Citadel. Ignis was the closest thing you had to a childhood friend, so you knew he certainly wouldn’t mind listening to you prattle along about your newfound abilities. 

The silver rings were cold against your skin, almost oppressive in the way they were wrung around your fingers. You often avoided wearing accessories in your previous line of work, since they’d only deter you from getting things done. Although you had to admit, there was a certain charm to wearing so many at once. You might just get used to this. 

Ignis strode into the restaurant you’d texted him about, unhurried as ever as his green eyes scanned the vicinity. When your gazes overlapped, his brows arched in recognition before heading over to your table. 

He watched you with curt fascination as you showed off the gifts you’d received from the king himself, oblivious to the way you observed _him_ pick at his favorite pie with more awareness than you let on. In all your years of ~~what you wished was more than~~ easygoing friendship, Ignis would always go out of his way just to see you if you’d asked. Of course, that only applied if he wasn’t busy doing an arduous task for the Crown, although even _that_ was uncommon. 

But you knew better than to give his unrelenting effort any meaning.

Your meal ended with you shaking on the agreement that he’d be the one to show you the ropes to Elemancy. You’d seen Ignis charge his daggers with spells of his own during those slow days in the Citadel training room where you just happened to pass by after a meeting with the royal council. You realized that his spars with Noctis and Gladio weren’t all that different when _you_ were the one standing before him on the training mats. 

The sight of him holding one of the fancy candle holders from the dining hall confused you at first, but as he drew out a detailed run-through of the basics of Elemancy, you found yourself nodding along every two seconds. 

“I’m certain King Regis has infused those rings with enough elemental magic to start with,” he said, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “But keep in mind: those are _not_ a wellspring of energy. There’ll come a time when the spells run out and you have to find another source to replenish it.”

You rolled your eyes, hands braced on your hips. “Iggy, I know _that_ much, at least. You want me to absorb the deposit from the candle flames or whatever, right?”

“That’s the idea, yes.”

Making a show of pulling your sleeves up your fingers flexed on your sides. You didn’t really know which ring carried which element, but that was nothing a little trial and error couldn’t answer. Imitating the way you’d seen Noctis do it once, you raised your hand in front of you—suddenly unsure how this was even going to work. Do you just _will_ the flames to come to you? Was there an ancient incantation that you had to say? 

Before you could answer those questions for yourself, you jerked your hand away with a hiss—feeling the ring on your index finger searing a circular mark into your skin. You slid it off in a panic, but you couldn’t even yell for Ignis to grab a first aid kit when the lesion rapidly faded as the seconds ticked past. A frown tugged your lips downward. That wasn’t exactly something science couldn’t explain, but so was _everything_ that revolved around the Crown. 

“Oh, right. It slipped my mind…” Ignis muttered, sounding only half as apologetic as his words insisted for him to be as he set down the candle holder. “You shan’t infuse excessive magic into your weapons. The iron forging can only handle so much.”

When the words fell on your ears, you felt both ice and electricity sizzling beneath your fingertips—aching for you to aim them all at Ignis. You slipped the ring you removed back onto your finger as you shot him a poisonous stare. “You just _forgot_ something that could potentially threaten an Elemancy user’s life?”

Ignis shrugged, a playful smile spreading across his lips. “I don’t think much of it. The backlash heals in seconds since we’re protected by Noct’s magic as well. Besides, you were looking rather impassioned. I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt such concentration.”

You muttered a string of curses that Bahamut would certainly smite you for, raising your hand again to experiment with how you were going to make use of the spells in your rings. It was far easier than you thought, really. All you had to do was set your eyes on a target—that being Ignis’ atrocious hairdo—and think, _won’t he look a little nicer if he got struck by lightning?_

A beam of electricity shot out from your hand, the ring on your middle finger buzzing to life as the sound of thunder seemingly echoed in the room. Ignis’ eyes shot wide as he manifested one of his daggers at the last second, deflecting the blast with an artificial lightning strike of his own. You were vaguely aware that your rebounded attack had done some damage to the interior, but if Ignis didn’t seem to care much for the repair costs, why should you?

“Should I take that as a challenge?” he chuckled, twirling the knife in his hand. 

You gripped your fingers into a tight fist, even assuming a silly battle stance that would’ve made Ignis roll his eyes had this been another circumstance entirely. But from the bemused glint in those pretty green irises, you knew that he’d let this level of absurdity slide. 

Once the training room was reduced to the most pitiful state it had ever been, you laid on the mats with Ignis—breath coming in uneven huffs as you stared up at the high ceiling.

“I don’t think I can kill anyone.”

Ignis let a few seconds pass in contemplation before humming. “What are you talking about? With a little practice, I’m certain you’d be able to eliminate enemies left and right. Isn’t this disaster a testament to that?”

“...not really what I meant.” You hauled yourself back into a sitting position, shaking your head sullenly. “Having cool magic powers is kinda neat, but…I guess I’ve been working so long saving lives that it feels…unthinkable for me to take them away.”

“After you just tried to maim me with a lightning bolt?” Ignis scoffed. 

“That’s different. You were being a little shit.”

Soft laughter filled the air, and you eased yourself back to your feet. Six silver rings stared back at you as you examined your fingers, wondering if your loyalty was questionable since you just admitted you couldn’t kill—not even for Noctis. But when your gaze drifted back to Ignis, who didn't seem the least bit perplexed that his fellow Crownsguard was chickening out, you told yourself maybe it was alright to uphold this little principle for yourself.

Your hands were for saving lives—never taking them.

“That is all. I expect for you all to be prepared not only in body but in mind.”

The sound of the king’s stern voice brought your consciousness back into the present, face flushing for having spaced out in such an important meeting. You spared your companions a few subtle looks from the corner of your eye, noticing that they, too, hadn’t moved an inch since stepping into the throne room a few minutes earlier.

 _Protect Noctis_. That had been the gist of King Regis’ summons, but it wasn’t as if you weren’t handed the job with that idea in mind since the beginning. You weren’t certain why he deemed it necessary to call you all in for another briefing, but you supposed it was the thought that counts. He was a father sending his only son off across the sea to a marriage he couldn’t even witness given the rising hostilities between Lucis and Niflheim. 

Oh, how you wished you understood the nuances of those words before it was too late.

* * *

You saw it.

You saw the way the crystal practically devoured Noctis in a sea of blinding light. Running long distances had never been an issue since this pain-in-the-ass journey to save the world began. But that short stretch of space that separated you from your charge—your _king_ —felt like light years with how long it took for you to arrive.

The four of you surrounded Ardyn on the platform with weapons drawn as he tried to make light of everything with some putrid attempt at conversation. Rage coiled in your gut, scorching hotter than any fire could hope to burn. Where was Noctis? What did this man _do_ to him?

Gladio took the honor of landing the first blow—his broadsword appearing in a shimmer of light as he slashed it across Ardyn’s back. Prompto was next to strike, putting several bullets into his back as the Chancellor swayed and crumpled to the floor. You stood beside Ignis, who was likely still grasping at straws of what was happening as your fingers twitched at your sides.

He was right there. The one that started it all. The one that hurt the most important people in your life. 

You lifted both hands in the air, liquid hatred coursing through your veins as fire and electricity sparked across your fingers. You wanted Ardyn to die. You wanted to fucking _end_ all this nonsense. You’d replenished all your rings before making it to Zagnatus Keep, and you were sure as hell that, though a single attack from you won’t kill him, it would put him in leagues of pain. 

But before you could even think about landing a hit, you felt a warm hand rest on your shoulder. You whirled towards Ignis with a furious scowl when he shook his head. 

“It’s not worth it.”

The tranquility of his voice grated at your nerves like salt to an open wound. You jerked your shoulder away, throat tightening even more when you saw his mouth twitch into a sad smile. 

But still, Ignis wouldn’t relent.

“Didn’t you tell me you couldn’t kill?” he murmured, his voice nearly sending chills down your spine.

“I _can’t_ kill Ardyn—he’s immortal,” you stated a matter-of-factly.

The Hand of the King repeated the action of shaking his head, grabbing your shoulder in a firm grip. “You know exactly what I mean.”

That little reality check made you hesitate. You stared at the body that lay on the floor, convinced that he was just stalling before rising back to his feet, completely unscathed. Even if you couldn’t kill the Chancellor, the intent to do so would still be there. And that alone went against the principles you swore to live by—immortal jackass that hurt your comrades or not. 

As if on cue, Ardyn’s bone-chilling laughter curled like tendrils in your ears. 

“I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be someone who understood the value of a single mortal life. You have my sincerest thanks for the reminder.”

Slowly, the Chancellor plucked his fedora off the ground—momentarily obscuring his face before bearing the daemon that hid underneath the guise of human skin. 

“I, too, was a healer once upon a time,” he chuckled, probing your chin up to meet his ichor-ridden gaze. You were petrified into place, unable to utter a single sound. “I like your determination—adore it, even. But there’s always a singular truth that will never change no matter how much time passes, it seems.”

Ardyn ghosted his breath across your ear, a repulsive sensation washing over you—urging you to squirm away from his unholy hands. 

“You can’t save everyone,” the Chancellor chuckled darkly, roughly pushing you to the floor. “If your king can’t even save himself, what could those who failed to protect him ever hope to achieve?”

The sound of Ardyn’s fading footsteps clanking against the metal walkway was but a distant ring in your ears. Ignis knelt to your side, setting his cane down to wrap his strong arms around your trembling frame. 

Your tears never came. You’d rather get sucked into the crystal, too than display yourself like that in front of the guys. But grief could be expressed in a dozen ways, and yours just happened to be clinging to the lapels of Ignis’ jacket as you ground your sanity to the scent of his clothes. 

As you all made it out of the Keep, Ignis would send you wary glances despite not being able to see what you were doing at all. But you supposed he knew you well enough to know.

These hands neither saved nor took lives. 

These hands couldn’t do anything at all.


	5. Chapter 5

“Thanks a bunch,” the hunter, whose name you never bothered knowing, slapped a hefty amount of gil in your awaiting palm. “I’ll come find you the next time the boys and I are headin’ out.”

Deciding to at least humor him with a taut smile, you stuffed the money in a small pouch, nodding once. “Sure thing. Let me know in advance so I can brew some elixirs for the trip.”

“Gotcha.”

As promised, he’d dropped you off at the small clinic you worked for in Lestallum before they headed back to Meldacio. He waved once as he climbed into the driver’s seat of his truck—carrying two other hunters in the back—before speeding away into the night. A tired sigh made its way past your lips as you checked your watch. 16:25 was hardly nighttime, but you knew everyone else was none the wiser.

The bells on the front door chimed with your entrance. You greeted the elderly woman by the counter (who was more or less your boss now) as she accommodated a man whose back was turned to you. Mama Ella was a refugee that came from a remote island in Accordo, but even with her finicky attitude, her healing prowess was something you could only dream of achieving. Despite being hailed as a prodigy of your own merit in Insomnia, you’d always known there would be more adept healers somewhere in Eos. 

“No. She’s booked by other hunters already,” she spoke the common tongue with traces of a thick accent underlining the words. “You have to wait at least a month before her schedule clears again.”

You arched an eyebrow at the curious exchange going on by the counter, unlacing your murky boots by the entrance in exchange for the sandals you left by the door. Had she been talking about you? 

The potential client sighed, and when your eyes caught sight of a familiar pair of driver’s gloves, you paused. “For the third time, I am not seeking out your services for a companion healer. I simply wish to speak with her.”

Now _that’s_ a voice you hadn’t heard in a while.

“Iggy?” you called out, sounding a tad too excited. 

Ignis, who you’d last heard from at least half a year ago, turned around—not exactly meeting your gaze for obvious reasons, but no less surprised. The first thing you noticed was the fact that he wasn't carrying a cane anymore. Either way, your chest stirred with a sensation you couldn’t place, but listed it off as relief for having seen a familiar face after so long. 

When the world had been plunged into the Long Night after Noctis’ disappearance, there wasn’t much that anyone could actively do to revert everything as it had been before. Refugees came pouring from the neighboring regions of Lucis, and the next thing you knew, Lestallum had been dubbed a safe haven for all. And with that heavy concentration of people in one place, also came the collective need to survive. Anyone and everyone who could wield a weapon more or less turned to daemon hunting as a means of getting by—the men you’d worked alongside ~~and failed~~ to protect the king were no different. 

During your last meeting six months ago, you’d all agreed that going your separate ways was the most reasonable decision to make. Of course, no one mentioned that being around one another only served to unearth memories and grievances that neither of you wished to acknowledge. But one of the good things that came out of that agreement was the fact that you wouldn’t have to see them enough to even remember. Out of sight, out of mind, they said.

...until now, at least.

In exchange for his old pair of sunglasses, translucent goggles sat on the bridge of Ignis’ nose, and you would have laughed at how silly he looked in them had you reunited in other circumstances. But you were well aware that a bit of catching up was long overdue. 

“Mija, this man has been pestering me for the past thirty minutes,” Mama Ella complained from the counter, arms folded across her chest. “Care to see him out so I can tend to patients that actually _need_ tending to?”

You spared her a soft laugh as you drew closer, mentally listing down how much you had to give her from your last job. Once you’d plopped the clinic’s share from your 50-50 agreement, Mama Ella’s frown went up in smoke—stubby fingers counting the money in her hands with zeal. 

“I’ll take him out of your hands after I shower. Duscae was a lot muddier than I remembered.” you explained, tugging on the strap of your satchel. “Can you _please_ not bite his head off while I’m gone?”

“I won’t if he sat quietly and waited.”

Her contempt easily drew out another chuckle from you before sparing Ignis an apologetic look. “I won’t be long.”

“Do what you must,” he said, nodding minutely in a way that sent your heart aflutter.

When you finally retreated to your room in the upper floors of the complex, you slid your back across the rickety door—burying your face in your hands with a groan. You’d done such a good job at keeping up appearances down there that you convinced yourself that _maybe_ the time you’d spent apart could have quelled the strange feelings you always seemed to get whenever you were around Ignis.

The weight that settled above your chest, unfortunately, didn’t attest to that. 

As you stripped yourself of your soiled clothes, you took off your rings to place by the sink in the bathroom for last. You’d used up the spells stored in them in your excursion, and you wondered if Ignis would be willing to accompany you in finding some elemental deposits. Even _those_ were becoming scarcer by the day. 

Before the thought could even progress, however, you shook your head—nearly resenting yourself for even considering the idea. You both had your own, separate lives now. Though the purpose of his visit remained a mystery, you knew better than to toe boundaries you weren’t even aware of setting.

* * *

“You got your own wheels now, too? Prompto would be jealous.”

Ignis stared at you with an offended air to his otherwise blank gaze. “Are you suggesting that I’m in a good state to drive?” 

“Well…” You trailed off, eyeing the worn pick-up truck parked by the side of the building. Of course, you’d only meant it as a jest, but your residual feelings for the man made you second guess about making light of his condition. 

Instead of dwelling on that, you asked, “How’d you get that thing all the way here, then?” 

Ignis pushed the goggles further up his nose, even if you were certain they were made to fit his face snugly. “Gladio and I came together from Meldacio. He wished to see Iris again, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to come along to see how you’re fairing as well.”

You stiffened, eyes riveted on him as you forcibly reeled yourself back from your surprise. How could he say something so curt with a straight face? Then again, this _was_ Ignis you were talking about. Despite being the retinue’s official strategist, he could be tactless when he wanted to be.

“Okay,” you spoke slowly, brows knitting with inquiry. “Do you want to just talk here or…?”

He shook his head, digging into the pockets of his jacket as he tossed something in your vague direction. The trajectory was a few feet off and you had to scramble on your feet just to catch whatever it was he was giving you. When you stared at the car keys that sat in your palms, though, you gave him an incredulous look that he _knew_ you were making despite not being able to see it. 

“Do you still remember how to drive?” The bemused tone in his voice made you want to throttle him in the alleyway. 

Where the hell was Ignis planning on going? It had to be out of Lestallum since he apparently wanted you to drive—an idea that didn’t quite sit well with you because you hadn’t been out of the city since your last trip to Gralea. 

But you, being the utter fool that you were, indulged him anyway.

* * *

“Ignis, I swear to the Astrals, if we run into another gargoyle, I’m ditching you.”

Instead of laughing, your companion simply settled himself further into the passenger seat, whitening palms braced on his knees that only seemed to tighten when you made a sharp turn. You sighed, squinting in the sparse lighting the truck could afford you. The highway that led to the Disc of Cauthess was surprisingly still intact, but you were merely relying on the fragmented directions that Ignis was providing straight from his memory. 

“And when you see an odd rock formation beside a dead tree, bypass the next intersection and veer yourself up the hill.” 

You could make out what he was probably trying to describe at a distance, which was a miracle given that your bad eyesight had been coupled with this endless stretch of darkness. There was a good reason why you’d never left the lights of Lestallum, and with each minute that passed since your departure, your paranoia continued to eat at you.

Every now and again, your gaze would dart back to Ignis before settling your eyes back on the road. You had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that he was just sitting right there after several months of not hearing from him. You knew that the four of you opted not to mind one another unless it’s direly needed, but that didn’t stop you from worrying. People disappear everyday Lestallum, and with no reliable means of communication, you could only hope your friends weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere. 

Despite the unease, your fingers drummed on the steering wheel as you followed Ignis’ instructions. The path leading to the hill he spoke of was already devoid of the comfort of smooth asphalt, but it didn’t look like it was impossible to traverse. Shifting your gears, you made the trek up with nothing but the mechanical hum of the engine filling the silence.

In the back of your mind, you wondered when Ignis managed to gather information for the particular place he’d wanted to visit. Was there someone waiting for him there? The idea of living alone in the darkness made your stomach turn, so you couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly survive like that. But when the road finally ended, the headlights shone across a craggy bluff that didn’t seem to have anyone residing in it. 

There was just you, him, and the Long Night that overlooked the cliff. 

You heaved a long sigh, thinking about shutting off the engine to conserve gas before realizing that meant you had to kill the lights, too. Something that was _not_ going to happen in a wasteland teeming with daemons. Agreeing to go all the way out here already went against your better judgement, so you didn’t have to make even more decisions you might or might not regret. 

“So,” you started, shifting in your seat, “you made me drive us out here just to…what? Catch up? Kinda romantic but the thing is, we live in a _post-apocalyptic_ society where—” 

“I’ve heard a few tales shared by some of the veteran hunters around the bonfires back at Meldacio,” he interrupted with the usual finesse he had to his words, leaning slightly against the window. “They speak of a cliff tucked away in the roads just north of Duscae where you could sometimes see the stars.” 

You frowned. “...stars?”

“Yes, _stars_.” Ignis’ tone beheld a sincerity that made you second guess playing his words as a joke. “It often happens when the moon is supposedly full—just shy of illuminating the darkness. Can you tell me if the rumors are true?”

Before you could spare a glance outside, your gaze flickered to your watch. 19:37, the numbers blinked back at you tellingly; realizing a bit too late that the drive here took longer than you’d anticipated. With a bated breath, you undid the seatbelt that held you in place, bracing your hands across the dashboard to lean forward. Through the dusty windshield, all you could make out of the heavens was the same obsidian sky that hovered over Lestallum even on good days—the void seeming like it had no plans on letting the stars nor the moon shine. Not soon. Probably not ever. 

“Sorry to break it to you, Iggy, but you might’ve been played for a fool there,” you admitted, settling back into the driver’s seat. 

“Oh? A shame.”

Then came the silence.

Although you could hear the distant shrieks of the gargoyles you’d been fussing about earlier, you knew that this patch of land remained out of the daemons’ reach. Ignis wouldn’t be so daring that he’d isolate you, a healer who needed some brushing up on her combat skills, and him, a man handicapped by his own eyes, somewhere that could endanger both of your lives.

You wanted to speak up, ask him questions, entertain his own if he had some—anything, really. Because there was nothing more frustrating than being back to square one despite everything that you’d lived through together. The cordiality he’d reserved only for those he worked with under the Crown was still up and barred even if there was no longer a king to protect in the first place. Fleetingly, you thought about how he’d chide you for having such a pessimistic manner of thinking when no one was sure if Noctis was actually dead. But could he blame you?

Underneath the pride of a Crownsguard, you were just a woman trying not to wilt in the darkness. 

“You’re with the hunters now, huh,” you commented—hoping your nonchalance masked the conflict that bubbled underneath. “I take it Gladio and Prompto did the same thing?”

Ignis nodded once, picking at some nonexistent lint on his shirt. “That may be so, but we do avoid going on the same hunts to honor our agreement all those months ago. Although we’re certainly not above greeting the other should our paths cross.”

“You say that like it’s such a chore.”

There was a momentary lapse in your conversation before he spoke again—a twinge of defensiveness evident in his words. “I know you’re aware that we all share a bond that cannot be fathomed by anyone else. Respecting the terms of what we decided on is what would best benefit everyone, isn’t it?”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to resort to full-on radio silence for half a fucking year, Ignis!” you bit back, staring at him hard. “If you could get to Lestallum with Gladio as easily as you did today, then you could at least afford to let me know you’re still alive, right?” 

Ignis startled at your sudden outburst, and you momentarily worried if you could have unknowingly attracted daemons with the racket you were making. But at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to care despite having feared an attack not five minutes prior. Your blood curdled with…anger? Disappointment? You didn’t know, but the bitter taste that tinted the inside your mouth lingered all the same. 

“You’re _always_ like this,” you hissed. “You _always_ run headfirst into danger like your life depends on it. Didn’t it ever occur to you that you have us backing you up? You say we have _a bond that cannot be fathomed by anyone else_ , yet still fail to consider the gravity of our brotherhood in the end!” Memories of seeing him half-conscious in Altissia flitted in the back of your mind, and despite taking place nearly a year ago already, the fear that you were going to lose both him and Noctis still stung like an open wound.

And now here he was, exposing himself to a similar degree of danger—running so far that you couldn’t even hope to catch up anymore. 

Before you knew it, you had one hand curling against the front of his shirt, bringing him closer to you as if minimizing the physical distance could shrink the rift that grew between you in the time you’d been apart. Your breaths came in shuddering intervals, heart threatening to shatter the scaffold of your ribcage. The minimal concern creasing his brow was the only indication you had to be able to tell that your words were actually going through him. And it only served to fuel your frustration even more. 

“Is it too selfish of me if I desire to present myself to the woman I love _only_ when I’ve finally had my bearings straight?” 

The grip you had on his clothes slackened. You had a handful of ideas of what he could respond to your aggravation with, but that… That was _not_ one of them. 

“No, you don’t have the right to say that,” you rasped, throat swelling with an emotion you wanted to kill with your own two hands. “Not after keeping your silence for so long. Not after _everything_ we fucking—”

Ignis spoke your name with reverence that should be dedicated to the gods, effectively hindering you from saying another word. You bit down your tongue, refusing to speak any further and to let the waterworks flow even if he couldn’t bear witness to it. This was unfair. _He_ was unfair. How could you possibly sustain the rage that churned in your gut if he was looking at you in the way you desperately wished he would _before_ your cumulative responsibilities got in the way? 

“I didn’t wish to see you until I’ve become a man worthy to live with you in the darkness,” he said, his fingers trailing blindly for a minute before he found the surface of your cheek—caressing the skin with a delicateness that tore your conviction asunder. “I’m sure you know already, but there is nothing I hate more than relying on others at the expense of my own pride.”

“I hope you fucking choke on your worthless pride then,” you retorted hoarsely, but both you and him know that you didn’t mean the words. 

Did he make you go out all the way here just to _confess_? To hell with your moral compass. If you were going to murder someone, Ignis Scientia was on top of the gods damned list.

Ignis laughed, the sound further uncoiling the anger that pulled taut in your stomach. You instinctively leaned into his touch despite wanting to keep up your false front of hostility. But you knew that he’d effectively torn your walls down once he ghosted the crescent of his mouth above your trembling lips—burning sweetly across your skin.

“If you wish to say refuse, then push me away,” he breathed, almost sounding uncertain as you were, “We can drive back to Lestallum and I’ll avoid inconveniencing you like this again. I also promise to keep you posted about my current status, but will limit our contact to that alone.”

You gazed at his unseeing eyes with moisture clinging to your lashes. Ignis was cruel—holding himself above you like a piece of meat like this. The most obvious choice was to refuse. He was out of his mind, and he made that very clear with what he was offering you right this second.

But he probably also knew, a bit too well, that you didn’t have nearly half the integrity you pretended to possess.

Words felt like an insult to address how you felt. Years of shutting your feelings down couldn’t just be fleshed out in a single moment. So, instead of the sharp retort he probably expected, you leaned in—closing the distance that sat in between.

You just prayed to the Six that it would be for good.


	6. Chapter 6

Your eyes fluttered open to the sight of Ignis’ back turned to you—hunched over the side of the bed as he toyed with something in his hands. Stifling a yawn, you lightly tugged on the sheets bunched underneath him to get his attention. 

“Morning,” you greeted raspily.

“It’s well over seven o’clock in the evening.”

Rolling your eyes at his crude response, you hauled yourself by your elbows to lean against the headboard. “How long was I out for again?”

“About fourteen hours.”

You frowned. That was odd. What’s with the clipped replies?

Ignis immediately stuffed what he’d been fumbling with—a box, of sorts?—in the drawer of his nightstand when you made the motions to drape yourself across his back. That earned him a pout from you as you nuzzled the crook of his neck. 

“This is the first time I woke up next to you in literal months, and you’re not paying attention to me?”

He hummed in confusion, turning his head so that your faces were centimeters apart. “I answered your questions, didn’t I?”

“But you’re obviously thinking about something else, Iggy…” 

The crease on his brow eased as he offered an apologetic smile, leaning close to plant a kiss on your chapped lips. However fleeting, you missed the feel of his mouth on yours, so when Ignis moved to pull away, you held his head in place, pressing your lips a few seconds longer. You’d let him off the hook for now.

“How was Tenebrae?” he asked before letting you pull him back on the bed. 

Your brows furrowed as you rested your head on his clothed chest. “Didn’t you already ask me that before I conked out?”

“Yes, but you didn’t exactly answer.”

“Oh. Well, it’s as dark as everywhere else,” you offered, tracing idle shapes on his shirt. “Not much happened on land aside from a few run-ins with daemons and the rescue operations. The trip by _sea_ was the most terrifying.”

You shuddered at the memory of your ship nearly sinking into the bottom of the ocean because of an attack from a sea serpent. Not only did the waves lap viciously beneath the vessel, but your caravan had been caught in the middle of a brewing storm, too. The immense gratitude you felt when the journey home was smoother convinced you that perhaps the Astrals hadn’t abandoned humanity just yet. 

“Long story short, I’m never going to volunteer for expeditions ever again,” you announced before adding, “unless you’re with me, of course.”

Ignis shook his head. “I’m certainly more capable than your usual cripple, but I believe I’ll only serve as a liability for expeditions outside of Lucis.”

“Pussy. We’re going to Gralea next even if it kills you.”

“Ah, yes. I love you, too.”

A lighthearted laugh tumbled from your lips as you burrowed yourself further into his warmth, breathing in the masculine scent that you’d associated with Ignis alone. 

“I missed you,” you murmured against his chest. “So much.”

Ignis arched an eyebrow as you pulled yourself to his lap—legs splayed on either side of his hips. Nonetheless, his hands rested on your hips and you relished in the firm way he’d settled you in place. 

“As have I,” he admitted, smiling gently. 

Not caring for your morning (evening?) breath, you slanted your mouth on top of his once more, slithering your tongue inside his mouth at the earliest chance. Ignis sighed against your lips as you felt his fingers dig further into your hips, tugging you even closer. A soft moan caught in your throat as he undulated his hips upward—giving you a feel of the growing erection between his legs. Another wave of relief washed over you. Gods, you hadn’t gotten laid in _seven months_. 

As the two of you slowly rid yourselves of your clothes, you found yourself thinking about the time you’d spent with Ignis. Ten years seemed like such a long time if you thought about it, but the night you’d shared a kiss with him in a starless quarry seemed like yesterday. How has a decade passed since then?

(A lone voice in the back of your head reminded you that meant Noctis had been missing for just as long. But you _refused_ to ruin the moment with your own retrospection.)

“Are you certain you hadn’t found solace in the other men you were with?” Ignis asked jokingly, but you could still make out the twinge of seriousness in his voice.

You laughed as he trailed his lips down your jaw, nipping lightly at the skin above the thrum of your pulse. “You _know_ your dick is the only one I’ll willingly ride, you weirdo. What about you? Not getting frisky with Cassandra from across the hall, right?”

“Lady Cassandra is sixty years old,” he pointed out dryly.

“So?”

Ignis shook his head in disbelief. Instead of entertaining your outlandish assumptions, he latched his mouth onto one of your peaked nipples, massaging your other breast as he swirled his tongue around it. A shuddering sigh escaped you as you wound your fingers in his hair, throwing your head back as you relished in the warmth of his mouth. 

Detaching his lips from your breasts, he flashed you a knowing smile before capturing your lips again—distracting you from the way his other hand trailed down your body. You gasped into him when you felt his fingers gathering the slick that pooled in your entrance, lathering your slit with your own arousal before rubbing your clit in tight circles. Bucking your hips to meet his touch, Ignis drowned the sound of your moans with his tongue—mapping out the cavern of your mouth like he hadn’t just spent seven months away from you. 

“Mmm… Iggy, I can’t wait anymore,” you whimpered when he slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out at a languid pace. “I need your cock inside me.”

“Patience has never been your strongest suit,” he commented playfully, curling his digits just _so_ until you were panting underneath him. “You’ve been out of reach for too long. Let me indulge your body, darling.”

You were about to voice out a complaint until he lowered himself, trailing featherlight kisses across the vertical canvas of your body. A full shudder racked through you when you felt his breath fan the apex of your thighs, cheeks suddenly aflame. Ignis trained his unseeing eyes on yours as he licked a stripe across your wetness, making you squirm in place when he began darting his tongue where he’d just withdrew his fingers from. It ached deliciously, his appendage caressing old places in new ways. His name was a string of suppressed moans that he seemed eager to hear once he decidedly slipped his digits back into your core. 

“Right there,” you moaned, legs lifting themselves off the bed as your toes curled with anticipation. “Gods, your tongue feels so—ah!” 

Ignis’ fingers had brushed a spot inside that made stars dance in the seams of your vision. For a moment, you recalled that stupid tale he’d overheard from the hunters about that cliff you drove to all those years ago. Apparently, seeing stars was a euphemism for the orgasms people would experience upon acting out their debauchery out in the open like that. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish to let Ignis take you at that moment, but you weren’t exactly a fan of having sex with daemons as an unwilling audience.

“Focus on me,” Ignis commanded. The authority in his voice made your insides tingle. Your walls clamped tighter around his fingers as he continued lapping up your essence. He made you come undone with just a few more come hithers into your cunt, pulling himself back up to silence the cries of pleasure you let out as you rode out your first orgasm in a long, long time. 

You stared at the stained ceiling with shallow breaths, vaguely aware that Ignis was positioning himself between your legs until he leaned down to brush his lips on the tip of your nose.

“Are you still good to go?” he murmured, concern lining his brow. 

Groaning, you crushed your lips with his once more—tasting yourself on his tongue before pulling away. 

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to leave you with balls bluer than the damn sky.”

Ignis laughed softly, and you felt him slide the head of his cock up and down your slit. “I’ve learned to take your threats at face value a long time ago, I’m afraid.”

A flippant remark rested on your tongue, but your lover effectively killed any attempt at biting back a retort when he bottomed out inside of you with a single movement. You drew out a long, borderline embarrassing moan, but Ignis didn’t grant you any leeway to recuperate—canting his hips as he threw caution to the wind. Your head lolled back against the pillows, lashes fluttering as he pounded into you again and again and again. Astrals, you missed him so bad, you could burst into tears—

“I love you,” he shaped the words against your lips as he hoisted your thighs up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his lean waist. “I’m sorry I kept leaving you like that in the past.”

You gave him a perplexed look that melted into another moan when Ignis ground his cock into you. “W-What are you talking about?”

Your lover sighed, resting teeth grazing the column of your throat. “It took me being left behind for months to realize how you felt. I’m apologizing because I’d always downplayed the worry and lonesome you probably experienced.”

This time, despite the drastic pleasure that seized you across several fronts, you held his gaze. “You’re being stupid again.”

“Pardon?” 

Astrals, this was a spectacle to behold. Two lovers upholding a serious conversation mid-coitus. You bet even Bahamut would pay up to see the show. 

“What I’m—hah—saying is…” You bit your lip, not wanting to let out any more embarrassing noises as you tried to make a point come across. “I never minded that you brushed my concern off all the time. I actually thought you were telling me to have more faith in you.”

Ignis blinked, his thrusts slowing until he stopped. “...I suppose you’re correct.”

Rolling your eyes, you bucked your hips to remind him that, hey, you were having _sex_. “Quit worrying and fuck me like you mean it already.”

He spared you yet another handsome smile, nuzzling your nose with his. 

“I’ll take you up on that.”

Ignis pulled his length out of your heat, eliciting a mewl in protest that promptly turned into an abrupt _oof_ as he practically flipped you onto your stomach. For a man unable to see, he certainly maneuvered you like he could. 

“You know how this goes, darling,” he whispered hotly as he hunched over to nip at the shell of your ear. “Face down, ass up.”

The arousal that had been stunted by your impromptu conversation sparked back into life as Ignis eased his throbbing cock back into you. His sudden shift in countenance took you by surprise, but you weren't complaining. Your fingers coiled around the sheets, knuckles turning white as he stuffed every inch of his shaft inside your sopping core. He whispered about the things he’d fantasized about during the nights you spent apart—how he absolutely couldn’t _wait_ to ravish you the moment you got home.

“I longed for you so dearly that I almost didn’t let you rest up,” he growled, hands groping your breasts with each harsh thrust he made. “I couldn’t stand the idea of you alone in the darkness with men who aren’t me.”

You breathed out a broken laugh as if to placate him. “There were women on-board, too, Iggy—”

“I don’t _care_ ,” he bristled through gritted teeth, making you wail when the tip of his cock brushed that same spot that had pleasure rippling across your nerves. “You’re not going on any expeditions without me. Am I making myself clear?”

You gasped in surprise when one of his hands collided with your ass—a loud smack reverberating across the room. Your neck ached for having your head pressed down against the mattress for so long, tears catching in your eyes as Ignis pile-drived himself in and out. Despite not having seen him for so long, it was as if your body had molded itself to accommodate him and only him. 

“Yes!” you hissed when your lover delivered yet another blow—the sensation leaving a delicious sting blooming across your supple flesh. “I’m yours to fuck, Ignis. Ah—!” 

Ignis left open mouthed kisses on your nape, dragging his teeth teasingly across the surface. The familiar pressure building in your navel began to loom across you like a shadow you desperately want to embrace. You bit your lip, feeling your orgasm about to boil over underneath your skin—

“Come for me.” 

As if you were made to heed this greedy man’s desires, you screwed your eyes tightly shut—framing his name across a high-pitched keen as Ignis unravelled himself inside of you. The sensation of his seed painting your walls with his claim made you shudder and groan, slumping to the mattress as your knees finally gave out. 

Ignis exhaled a long, bated breath as he slipped himself out of the mess between your legs—nearly crashing back on his side of the bed with how loud the springs squeaked underneath. The two of you took all the time you needed to ground yourselves back to reality, and when the cold of the room finally seeped into your fever-pitched skin, you turned to your boyfriend with a sleazy grin. 

“Isn’t it about time for the bonfire dinner?”

He nodded, wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow. “I intended to rouse you the normal way, but I suppose this works as well.”

A giggle fell from your lips as you scooted closer to him, pressing a beguiling kiss on his mouth. “I’m kind of in the mood for some xiaolongbao.”

“Do you think you can afford to eat dumplings in a dystopian society?”

You huffed, hoisting yourself to your feet so you could snatch your rings from the nightstand. “It’s possible if it’s us making it, y’know. Although I’m not too keen on the idea of sharing with the others. Maybe next time.”

Ignis shook his head as he began to feel around for his clothes. You even nudged his jeans closer to help him out. “You’re a selfish one aren’t you?”

“And _you’re_ not?” you snorted.

As you reached for your panties that somehow ended up on the other side of the room, you didn’t miss the way Ignis chuckled with amusement as he patted down his hair.

“We were made for each other, indeed.”

* * *

“Iggy. The old man’s here.”

Looking up from where he’d been enjoying a cup of coffee from the sofa, Ignis stared at the vague direction where Gladio’s voice emerged from. The familiar creak of the door to his quarters grated at his ears, and another set of foot falls—much lighter than Gladio’s usual lumbering—caught his attention. He hadn’t the slightest idea what the jeweller he’d been meeting with looked like, but Ignis could tell he was grinning. 

“Are you finally ready to buy one off me, boy?” His gravelly Niflheim accent didn’t accommodate the Lucian tongue as smoothly as it did with the locals. “I’ve got to hand it to ya, though; you’ve grown on me. It’d be a shame if these little sessions came to an end.” 

Ignis spared him a smile of his own, setting his cup down on the coffee table. “I’ll have to make up my mind sooner or later, I’m afraid.”

He could hear Gladio closing the door as the jeweller let himself in. The Shield used to be present during all the times Ignis had called the Niflheim native into his room—an extra precaution to make sure he wasn’t being swindled. But after a few days of abrupt mineral lessons and man-to-man small talk, the advisor decided that Gladio didn’t have to be around when he finally made his choice. 

The sound of the box the man always carried being unlocked fell on his ears, and Ignis could picture the gold and silver embellishments inside twinkling like stars just before daybreak. They would sit atop a velveteen cushion, each one tucked securely amongst the ridges that held them in place. Ignis felt the couch dip under the weight of the jeweller and if his prolonged silence was anything to go by, that meant he was picking out something for him to scrutinize. 

“Here,” the man said, pressing a cold gilded ring on Ignis’ palm. “Tell me: real or not?” 

Ignis’ brows knit with concentration as he balanced the ring on the pad of his index finger—way too light to be the real thing. He shook his head, and the jeweller chuckled as he plucked the fraud out of his grasp. 

“You really are something else, boy,” he laughed. “Well, as long as I’m invited to the wedding, I ain’t selling you no counterfeits. Besides, what kind of a heartless bastard would I be to swindle a blind man?”

“That’s _exactly_ what a swindler would say,” Ignis commented, but his words carried no ill will. He knew this man could be trusted. “You mentioned handpicking the best for me. May I take a look—ah, I mean. Could you bring them out?”

The jeweller grunted in approval as he leaned towards the table—the lighthearted tune he hummed along to telling Ignis he was doing as told. 

He wasn’t exactly in a rush to tie the knot. The patience he’d exhibited for the last decade was a testament to that, but when you’d volunteered to aid an expedition to find more survivors in Tenebrae, that made Ignis pause and mull over his commitments. 

Hunts and expeditions that spanned for months weren’t entirely uncommon, and he’d been to several of his own many times before. You would always talk his ear off before those trips in an attempt to dissuade him, but in the end, you acknowledged that Ignis was doing this for the sake of many. As always, you’d welcome him with open arms whenever he gets home—the relief of having come back alive magnified as he familiarized himself with the warmth of your body time and time again.

Now, however, the tables had been turned on him. Ignis slowly realized how it must have felt for you to wait without the slightest clue as to what was happening to him, and he wished he’d sympathized with you sooner. 

“When’s the missus coming back?” 

Ignis sighed as the jeweller placed a small, rectangular cushion on his lap. He skimmed his fingers across the three rings that were presented before him, and knew which one would suit you best with a single touch alone. He briefly wondered how you'd wear a golden ring amongst six made of silver, but Ignis trusted your sense of style well enough. “The caravan is expected to arrive in two weeks’ time.”

The man made a noise in understanding. “They’ve been gone for how long again?” 

“No less than seven months, I believe.”

“Heh. No wonder you want to get hitched as soon as she returns.” 

The advisor chose to overlook the taunting in his voice, plucking the ring he’d chosen from the cushions. The golden finish was smooth against his fingers and weighed just as a bona fide wedding band should. Admittedly, he’d considered getting you a diamond, but figured that you would _definitely_ yell at him first for being so impractical. 

“That’s not exactly what I have in mind,” Ignis said, handing the ring to the jeweller to put inside a box to give you. “I’ll only wish to marry her when the sun is willing to oversee the ceremony.” 

He snorted and the sound of a box shutting to a close echoed in Ignis’ ears. “I ain’t one to rain on other people’s parades, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen any time soon.”

The jeweller placed a smaller box outlined with velvet into his hands, and Ignis gingerly held it with care. A soft smile played on his lips, not knowing how to explain to a foreigner that the Lucian Crownsguard had a mission to put an end to this darkness. 

And if the anticipation that’s been brewing in his gut for the past few weeks was anything to go by, Ignis was certain something was going to happen—something _big_. 

“That’s on the house,” the man insisted while Ignis made the motions to give him a wad of cash placed in an envelope.

The advisor frowned. “But you’d been badgering me for a payment for days—”

“That’s ‘cause I thought you were some snot-nosed noble that didn’t recognize the value and sanctity of marriage,” he chuckled, putting his merchandise away swiftly. “I’ll let ya have your engagement ring for free _if_ you make me an official jeweller for Lucis once everything goes back to normal.”

Ignis sighed, rather confused. Not five minutes ago, the jeweller was speaking about how he thought the light of the sun would never touch their horizons again. Now he was demanding to be a Lucian official? 

“You certainly drive a hard bargain,” he commented with the beginnings of a smile tugging at his mouth. “But I suppose that could be arranged.”

He could almost hear the grin in the man’s voice. “The missus is about to get hitched with an enabler. Dunno how I suddenly feel about that.”

A buzz of laughter rumbled in the advisor’s chest as he pocketed both his money and the box.

For ten years, he’d harbored secret feelings for the daughter of a family who also served the Crown. And it took him ten more to make up for all the time the two of you had lost. 

Surely that was enough to convince you, right?

Ignis glanced at the jeweller once more, his next words carrying just the right amount of conviction he wanted to convey when talking about his beloved.

“You best believe she’ll agree, regardless.”


End file.
